


The Holding Pen

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: Prompts and Bunnies [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of random ideas and bunnies adopted from the tf_bunny_farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clue, the Cybertronian way

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo...  
> Most of those stories are very old, as they were written around 2008-2009. As such, I haven't always kept the link toward the inital prompts, sorry.  
> Hope you'll like anyway :)
> 
>  
> 
> Bunny: Clue, the Cybertronian way... Well, sort of.

“Your turn, my friend.”

“So... to go with the time Sideswipe was caught putting snakes into the Ark to ‘help chase Ravage away’, I’ll say: ‘Red Alert, in the Monitor Room, with the cameras’,” said Hound, smiling.

“Good one.” Mirage nodded. “But far too easy; you know everyone has been caught like that at least once.”

“Even you?”

“Even me,” said the spy, nodding. “You wouldn’t believe where he puts some of his cameras.”

“Would you prefer: ‘Prowl, in his office, with the forms’?” teased the green mech. “One red Minibot you know well tried to avoid him for weeks afterward. You just don’t tamper with Prowl’s precious reports without paying the price. In this case, having to check all of them and see if anything was missing.”

“Poor Cliffjumper; it was cruel on our SIC’s part,” snickered the noble. “But at least he was so exhausted afterward he left me alone. A damn miracle, I tell you.”

“Sarcasm suits you,” said Hound, patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Thank. Who’s the next one on the list?”

“Well, it’s...”

“What are you doing?” asked someone behind them.

Both Mirage and Hound turned to greet Skyfire with smiles.

The large mech hadn’t been with the Autobots for very long, and tended to stay away from most of the Ark’s crew. Nobody could really blame him; awakening after millions of years to discover that his planet was at war and that his former best friend had become a monster had to have been a shock.

“We’re trying to entertain ourselves for now, since we do not have clearance to leave the Ark for... how long?” Mirage asked the green mechnext to him.

“Three days. Ratchet’s orders.” Then, for Skyfire, he added. “We were injured in the last battle and we’re still recovering, or so he says. We can’t leave unless it’s an emergency. Not fun, but at least he let us leave the Medbay instead of strapping us to our berths.”

“He can do that?” asked Skyfire, shocked. He had never been truly left to the CMO’s care for long and, as such, didn’t know a lot about him.

“He can and he will if he thinks you’re not going to listen to him. Just ask Jazz next time you see him,” answered Hound calmly, pulling up a seat for the red and white mech.

“I will,” said the large mech while sitting down. “So, what were you playing, exactly?”

Hound and Mirage shared a look.

“A new version of ‘Clue’,” answered the noble.

“Clue?” asked Skyfire, frowning.

“A human game where the players are looking for the identity of a murderer. When they think they’ve found it, they tell the name of the murderer, the room in which he killed his victim and the weapon he used,” explained Hound.

“But... nobody is dead here...”

“Well, we kinda dropped the murder part,” answered Hound. “Instead, we are trying to connect the name of a ‘culprit’ or a ‘victim’, depending on how you look at it, with the one of the person having infliged the ‘punishment’ on them and how they did so. We reminded ourselves of a lot of stuff while doing so.”

Skyfire nodded. It was just another way to share a good laught.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Well, long enough to have already done Tracks, Perceptor, Beachcomber, Powerglide,...” Mirage listed.

Skyfire listened patiently to each name and what the two friends had thought about them. He had to admit, some of them made him smile, like the ‘Jazz, in the Rec Room, with the speakers’. He had really needed that...

BOOM!

“What was that noise!?” asked Skyfire, jumping from his seat and ready to run down the hallways. Hound’s hand on his wrist forced him to stay with them.

Mirage smiled wickedly.

“That, my dear mech, is the usual ‘Wheeljack, in his lab, with whatever he was working on’. And you can be sure that ‘Ratchet, in the Medbay, with a wrench’ is going to follow soon enough.”


	2. If Anybody Asks...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Scrapper have questions. They don't like the answer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunny: "If anybody asks, don't answer!"

Hook and Scrapper stared at their fellow Constructicons with incredulity. Slowly, the surgeon pinched the bridge of his nose, while Scrapper rested his head in one hand.

They just knew this was going to be a disaster. Why did they choose to listen to Megatron instead of their instincts? Ah, yes; their leader was unhappy and Starscream wasn’t around to take the fusion cannon shot that would probably come around in no time.

And their gestalt brothers had said they would be fine. Right.

Bonecrusher snorted. Long Haul shrugged. Scavenger looked sheepish. Mixmaster wasn’t even listening, lost in a daze and muttering about pretty shiny liquids.

“Five joors. Five slagging joors since we left you alone. The room was in a perfect state. And now... How could that happen in so short a time?” asked Hook.

Scavenger tried to smile weakly.

“Well, you see, it’s quite funny. You see, Long Haul tripped on Bonecrusher’s foot, because he was carrying too much and he wasn’t watching the ground, then he pushed me and well, I couldn’t grab anything fast enough to stop my fall, so I tripped on Mixmaster while he was adding something in his new experiment and well, perhaps he added a bit more than he wanted, because the flask fell into the mix and well, there was that smoke and it dyed everything it came across...”

“Nevermind,” sighed Scrapper. “I’m sorry we asked. The four of you, hit the washracks, and try to not be seen by someone else. Now.”

“As to why the Medbay is now neon pink and will probably stay that way for a while... If nobody asks, don’t answer,” added Hook while reaching for a cube of high-grade he kept in subspace for days like these.

It was going to be a long, long day...


	3. Flirting With the 'Cons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's utter suprise, Perceptor uses more than his brains to get them out of a sticky situation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunny: The Twins and Perceptor get captured. Perceptor seduces a ‘Con to get them out.
> 
> Warnings: some slash

When the science team had requested a pair of warriors to come with them on an expedition, Prowl had assigned the Twins.

Sure, they had protested, but the Datsun had given them a choice: go with the nerds or wash the hallways of the Ark with what the humans called a toothbrush.

How the SIC had managed to find Cybertronian-sized versions was an unanswered question that still plagued their CPU.

What a choice to make. In the end, they had agreed to go with the nerds.

They didn’t know who exactly who the genius was that had decided to separate everyone in two groups, but if they managed to find out, he would pay.

Usually, in bad movies, when someone isn’t with the rest of the group, he is attacked by the monster/killer/shark/crocodile, take your pick. In their case, it had been the Decepticons, with Starscream and his damned nullrays.

If they had been alone, they wouldn’t have been so worried. The problem was, a third mech had been caught.

And now, inside the Decepticons’ base, locked in the brig, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked at their fellow captive with a mix of wonder and horror.

When he had told them he had a plan to escape, they had thought he meant he had some ingenious plan, perhaps a few tools which had escaped to their captors notice. But no, instead of using that famed intelligence of his, he was just...

Flirting with the ennemy. And, worse, it was working.

“What do the humans call that again?” came the voice of the yellow twin.

“I think that what's you’re looking for is ‘sex appeal’. Who would have thought he had any?” mumbled Sideswipe.

“Does that really work for us? I mean, we aren’t humans...” wondered Sunstreaker aloud.

“If you have a better word to describe Perceptor right now, just tell me. Until then, I’ll stick to human language,” answered Sideswipe while looking at the red and blue Autobot, and the Seeker who was putting his hands on Perceptor’s hips.

Skywarp wasn’ the sharpest tool in the shed, but damn, even he shouldn’t have fallen into a trap so obvious as the suggestive winks and slightly spread legs of the scientist.

Well, the twins had to admit Perceptor looked rather cute with his lips pursed, and he was pleading with a small voice for some help with a sore spot on his back, near his aft...

Perhpas it was no wonder Skywarp fell hard and fast.

Perceptor's right arm was wrapped around the Seeker's waist. His left hand was stroking his back, slowly making his way toward his neck. The Seeker was nibbling at the Autobot scientist's shoulder, looking very pleased.

And suddenly, his optics darkened and he fell to the ground. Perceptor just smiled at that and exited the cell he was in, left open by the formely enamoured Decepticon.

“What...what did you do?” asked Sideswipe, optics locked on the still form of the black Seeker, as their fellow Autobot was opening the door of their cell.

“I shut down a few systems,” answered Perceptor, shrugging. “It’s not so hard once you’ve listened to some of Ratchet’s lessons.”

“Just wait until the others hear of that...” began Sunstreaker.

The scientist turned toward the twins with a dangerous look in his optics. Now, next to Megatron’s glare or Prowl’s face on a bad day, it wasn’t that scary. But well, it was Perceptor: the nerdy ‘bot who wasn’t even properly armed.

And seeing him glare at them was like seeing Prime declaring his eternal love to Megatron.

“You,” hissed Perceptor, “Are never going to say to anyone what just happened here. Am I clear?”

The Twins just nodded dumbly. The scientist smirked.

“Now, if you could please use Skywarp’s weapons to lead the way and bring us back to the Ark, I would be delighted,” said the microscope sweetly. “Oh, and by the way, I don’t condamn the use of mayhem, chaos and random explosions while you’re doing so.”

The Twins exchanged a glance and smiled while grabbing the Seeker’s guns. Perhaps Perceptor wasn’t a bad mech to be around, after all...

Perhaps they could try to... ‘get to know him better’ later on.


	4. Hands Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perceptor isn't impressed by Sideswipe trying to 'molest' him while he's working; thankfully, he has a deterrent...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11\. If the ‘Hands Off’ don’t work...
> 
> Warnings: Slash themes, rather onesided Sideswipe/Perceptor

Perceptor had his back turned to him and Sideswipe grinned as he approached the other mech silently.

“Hello, beautiful,” he purred, one of his arms circling Perceptor’s waist. The scientist stiffened slightly before relaxing in the red Lamborghini’s embrace. Sideswipe grinned in victory. This would be easier than he had imagined.

Perceptor was spending far too much time alone in his lab for anyone’s liking, as everyone on the Ark knew. Especially after the CMO had ranted about idiotic mechs who didn’t know how to take care of themselves, citing Perceptor has a prime example.

He had strongly advised that someone relieve Perceptor of some of the... tension he was amassing with his never ending work.

Well... Actually, the medic had said: “Someone should grab him and ban him from his slagging lab for a few hours; it wouldn’t kill him!”

It was really Wheeljack who had suggested: “Interfacing would help him to relax; he’s always so tense...” Sure, he was jocking and just about everyone knew that, but Sideswipe could always pretend he had taken the engineer’s words seriously.

And it was just flirting, really. It wasn’t like he was going to force the scientist to do anything if he wasn’t willing. Except the mech was so... shy and quiet that the Lamborghini knew he would have some fun in making him respond to his touch.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he whispered in the microscope’s audial, one of his hand tracing the other mech’s backside knowingly.

“No, I’m not,” answered quietly the microscope, not stopping Sideswipe’s actions, despite the hand that was fondling his aft. “I’m in the middle of a very intersting experiment and I would like to be left alone for the time being, if you don’t mind.”

Sideswipe frowned. Usually, whoever he was handling squirmed under his touch, but for some reason, Perceptor was placid. Hum, perhaps he wasn’t teasing the good parts?

He reached for one of the scientist’s subspace pocket; he knew touching someone there gained very good answers. Teasing the microscope, he began pushing his hand into subspace. The scientist paused in what he was doing.

“I strongly suggest you stop what you are doing,” advised Perceptor, not stopping what he was doing. He didn’t think Sideswipe would listen, but he could try anyway. No harm done... For now. “Have you any idea what the words ‘hands off’ mean, Sideswipe?”

“No,” answered the Lamborghini playfully. “Should I?”

He pushed his hand deeper and Perceptor began counting mentally. The resulting ‘SNAP’ and the cry of pain he heard when he reached zero didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

Perceptor glanced at Sideswipe, who was shaking his hand madly, an oversized mouse trap locked firmly on his fingers. The microscope smiled slightly for himself.

“Surprising how mouse traps... or wolf traps for that matter are far more convincing than a simple ‘hands off’.”


	5. Stupid Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen is not a happy mech. Then again, neither is Perceptor. And it's all Smokescreen's fault. And Sideswipe, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunnies: ‘Smokescreen/Perceptor’ and ‘Perceptor’s upset with his lover for losing him in a bet.’
> 
> Warnings: Slash

Smokescreen tried to calm himself. The other wasn’t heavily armed. He wasn’t going to kill him, or at least not now, in front of Red Alert’s cameras. For once in his life, he was happy the paranoid Security Director had installed so many of them.

Sighing, he looked at his lover with a tense smile.

“I take you’re upset I lost you in this bet?”

Perceptor looked at him with wide and almost innocent optics. One could have given him Primus’ blessing without question, but Smokescreen knew better.

“What may have given you that idea?” the scientist quietly asked.

Smokescreen shrugged.

“Well, I don’t know. Perhaps it was the fact you didn’t say more than three words to me these last two days. Or perhaps it was finding myself glued to my seat in the Rec. Room by a chemical you could access anytime you wanted. Then again, finding all my belongings on the floor outside our quarters yesterday was a dead give away.”

“I’m sure it was,” nodded the microscope, smiling in a predatory way. “So, now we have managed to corner each other, care to explain why you choose to bet me?”

His tone indicated it had better be a very good reason, or Smokescreen was a dead mech.

“Well, perhaps I had a tad bit too much to drink; but I was sure I was going to win, so when he said he was going to bet Bluestreak...”

“... You decided to get even by betting your own lover?”

“... Yes. Sorry. If it gives you any comfort, I think he cheated...”

“I don’t care. Now, no thank to you, I have to go on a date with Sideswipe of all the mechs!”

Smokescreen faltered.

“A... a date? I thought he just wanted some help to set a prank...”

“Well, guess what? You thought wrong,” answered his lover with a snarl. “And I can’t really say no, can I? Since I belong to him for two weeks. So, I prefer to warn you,” stated coldly the scientist.

Mechs couldn’t gulp like humans did, but right now, Smokescreen wished he could.

“I pray he acts like a perfect gentlemech during this date, because if not, you’re not going to set foot in my berth for the next million vorns,” warned Perceptor, arms crossed over his chest.

And at this instant, Smokescreen knew he wasn’t going to get laid for a long, long time...


	6. Cruel and Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poor Decepticon must lives through the new interrogation method the Autobots came up with. A very unusual one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the file back on my computer while browsing through old texts. It was one of my first TF fics, if I remember right. Now, I'm not sure it actually was an adopted bunny to begin with, but I thought it would fit nicely in the collection anyway. :)
> 
> That said, enjoy!
> 
> Characters: Unamed Decepticon, Jazz, Prowl and... surprise!

When he had been captured, the Decepticon hadn’t been worried. Autobots were weaklings. They wouldn’t hurt him, even if they needed the information he had about Megatron’s latest plan.

At first, they had asked politely for answers. He had snorted at that.

He should have known they were up to something when they simply shared a glance and nodded after he had told them exactly what they could do with their questions.

He should have known they were cruel, ruthless slagging sons of a glitch when they locked him up in that cell and these three abominations had come.

Because he was ready to testify in front of Primus himself that these mechs were monsters!

He wanted to kill them so badly, or at least crush their vocalizers in his hands in the most violent way possible. But with his hands bound behind his back, he had no chance to do so. Besides, they were on the other sides of the energy field.

His face twitched when one of them, a red one with a lens barrel on his shoulder, began a new explanation about... well, he didn’t really care at this point. All he could hear was that voice, the Primus forsaken voice _which wasn’t stopping for more than a breem! ___

__He had heard tales about the scientist called Perceptor. Some claimed he could make a whole class of students fall asleep with his speeches. Nobody had mentioned he could drive someone crazy just by talking!_ _

__And the others two were just as bad! One talked so much and about such random things that the Decepticon actually wondered how in the Pits he was doing it. And the third was talking so fast that the captive couldn’t even understand what he was talking about!_ _

__How could the other Autobots stand them? He didn’t know and, frankly, he didn’t want to._ _

__Five more joors passed. They were still talking, talking, talking,... Not even to each other, mind you. Each one was talking about something different, without listening to the others. He suspected they had shut down their own audios so they didn’t have to listen to the others._ _

__Which he couldn’t do, since someone had messed with his circuits before dropping him in this forsaken Pit! He was going to crack. He just knew it._ _

__And Autobots pretended they condemned torture of any forms! The slagging hypocrites! If what he was enduring wasn’t torture, than he was a fragging turbo-fox!_ _

__He managed to hold on for three more joors. Then he did something very unlikely for a Decepticon; he started to wail like a sparkling, hitting his head against the wall of the cell._ _

__With some luck, he would manage to offline himself._ _

__*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_ _

__A few hours later, two black and white mechs were discussing the events. One of them, a cheerful looking ‘bot with a visor, leaned against a wall of the office. “So, how is our captive doing?” Jazz asked._ _

__Prowl didn’t even look up from his reports. “Not too bad since Ratchet paid him a visit. Of course, he will probably start screaming again the moment he comes back online. I heard he begged Ratchet to kill him now.”_ _

__Jazz winced. “Ouch. I bet the Doc wasn’t happy with us?”_ _

__Prowl glanced at him. “He isn’t. I wouldn’t cross him for the time being, if I were you.”_ _

__The saboteur gave the SIC a 'Who me? I don't know what you're talking about' look. Jazz said, “We could always tell him it was Prime's idea and not ours.”_ _

__Prowl shook his head. “I doubt it will work, even if it’s true.”_ _

__Jazz tilted his head, caressing his chin with a finger. “Say, I know we needed the informations badly, but still... Locking him up in a room with Perceptor, Bluestreak and Blurr... don’t you think it was cruel?”_ _

__Prowl nodded. “Probably, but at least it worked. And it’s nice to know we’ve found a new way to interrogate the prisonners without resorting to pointless violence.”_ _


	7. Grim's Faery Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dinobots were intoduced to Earth's fairy tales. For some reason, it led to Grimlock writing his own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another fic found while dusting my files. Enjoy :)
> 
> 4\. Bunny: Grim’s Faery Tales (or Grimlock writes a book).

In Prime’s office, three mechs were talking about a serious matter.

“Remind me how this happened?” asked Optimus Prime, gazing at his desk. “From what I understand, you were reading some human’s stories to the Dinobots to keep them occuped.”

“That’s right, Prime,” answered Wheeljack. “Since they weren’t interested in listening to more serious subjects, I tried the faery tales, and they liked them. Well, actually, Swoop and Sludge liked them, Slag wasn’t listening and Snarl wasn’t very interested, except when we came across the Little Mermaid.”

“I’m not going to ask,” said Prime crossly. “Now, Grimlock...”

“Ah, Grimlock... Well, at first, he was enjoying the stories too, but in the end, he thought those faery tales were too mellow...”

Ironhide, who had stayed silent until then, snorted.

“You have to admit, they are.”

Wheeljack glared at him. He wasn’t very happy with the older mech right now. He was, after all, the one who had started this mess when he had overhead Grimlock’s lack of satisfaction with the various faery tales’ endings.

“That’s not the point! You shouldn’t have told him to write down his own version of the tales!”

Prime looked down at the book in front of him.

“You know, I’m not sure what’s the worst; that Grimlock doesn’t have bad ideas when it comes to writing, or how bloodthirsty he is with his characters.”

Ironhide nodded.

“I must say, I happen to like his version of Cinderella where she slaughters her mean stepmother and beat up her stepsisters with the frying pan and the broom before running off with the prince and taking control of the kingdom.” said Ironhide. “The grammar is atrocious and his spelling is a real disaster, but once you grab the idea, it’s very entertaining.”

“You would like that,” grumbled Wheeljack, “Since you were the one who suggested that ending.”

“Well, I never thought he would actually write it down!” protested the red mech. “I was jocking!”

“Too bad then that the Dinobots don’t understand the word ‘sarcasm’,” snarled the engineer.

“Anyway,” said Prime before they could start a full shouting match, “What should we do with this?”

They glanced at the Cybertronian-sized book resting on the desk, proudly titled ‘Me Grimlock Farey Tales’.

“You think we can burn this book?” asked Prime.

“He has copies,” pointed quietly Wheeljack. “I saw him giving one to Swoop the other day.”

“Ban it from the Ark, then?” tried Ironhide.

“Smokescreen and the Twins would only be too happy to smuggle new copies in,” pointed out Optimus. “And Grimlock wouldn’t take that in a good way.”

“Said to Grimlock he’s not allowed to ever write anything else ever again?” asked again Ironhide.

“He will not listen; he never does,” sighed Wheeljack.

“Put a warning label ‘Children and sensitive mechs, don’t open if you don’t want to have nightmares for the rest of your life?’”

The three mechs glanced at each others.

“Now,” mused Wheeljack, “There is a very small chance that could work...”


	8. Problem Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dinobots want a pet. Wheeljack decides to build them one.

In hindsight, Wheeljack knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, he winced when he heard the familiar sound of metal bending and what might have been a scream of pain, though it was just a loud squeak.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have added a vocalizer to his latest creation...

Grimlock’s thunderous voice was heard in the background.

“You Slag don’t squeeze kitty like that! You hurt him!”  
“But him like it!”  
“Him doesn’t like! And let him Sludge handle the kitty! His turn now!”  
“Not fair!”

It was not every day that one could see the Dinobots bickering like children for the privilege of stroking what, for the humans, would have been a cat.

Wheeljack barely conceled his amusement. Jazz, for his part, was watching the show with a grin.

"And another one will bite the dust…”

Wheeljack sighed.

"No surprise. They don't seem to understand that they mustn't squeeze them in their arms like that. At this rate, I will not be able to work on my newest invention for a while..."

The saboteur wouldn’t tell him he was relieved. Him, and everybody else who had to pass in front or who lived next – well, not exactly next, but close enough to feel the vibrations caused by the usual explosion – to the engineer’s workshop.

Not that they didn’t like Wheeljack; he was a good friend and a wonderful mech. But nobody wanted to be caught in an explosion.

In a way, the newest obsession of the Dinobots was a blessing in disguise for the Ark’s crew.

Instead of telling him the truth, Jazz patted him on the shoulder.

“You had a good idea. I mean, they wanted a pet; it wasn’t as if we could make them change their minds. And Primus knows we tried...”

Wheeljack glared at him.

“No, Ratchet, Prowl, and Prime tried to talk them out of it. You... you just recorded everything,” answered the scientist.  
“Well, someone had to,” shrugged Jazz. “And I’m glad I did; nobody would have believed me without proof if I had told them the Dinobots could sulk and pout better than Bluestreak and Bumblebee.”

Wheeljack had to agree on this one.

“Yes... It scares me sometimes the way they can make Ratchet and I do anything they want...”  
“Don’t be so surprised; they’re yours, after all. And everybody can see that,” added Jazz.  
“They don’t look like me or Ratch...”  
“No, but they roar exactly like him,” smiled the saboteur.

Wheeljack chuckled. Now, he had heard a good deal of rumors about himself, Ratchet, and the Dinobots. Most of them were truly stupids and some others weren’t so far from the truth. But even though he was greatly amused by them, he doubted Ratchet would be.

Scratch that, Ratchet _wouldn't_ enjoying them at all and he'd be delighted in throwing his tools at whoever was doing the speaking

Thankfully for everyone, the medic didn't listen to gossip very often. But the few things he had overheard had made him furious

“Never let Ratchet hear you; you would never leave the Medbay alive,” he warned Jazz with excessive seriousness.  
“He still don’t want to listen to anyone who tells him the five of them are just like him?” ansked the saboteur, smiling playfully.  
“I think he never will if he has the chance.”  
“He’s in denial.”  
“As I said, never let him hear that.”

As they finished speaking, the Dinobots reminded them of their presence rather loudly.

“Here kitty, kitty!”  
“You Snarl stop! Him afraid of you!”  
“Him not!”  
“Me Slag got him!”  
“You Slag drop him now!”  
“Him Wheeljack said not drop him!”

Jazz and Wheeljack exchanged a look as the five mechs began snarling at each others.

“It’s a good thing you managed to finish the first one before they could raid a zoo like they had intended to. I don’t think the humans or Prime would have liked...” started the saboteur.

Wheeljack shook his head, still watching the Dinobots playing with their new ‘kitty’. Swoop, who had finally managed to calm everybody down and have a turn with the 'kitty', was holding him close to his chest, nuzzling his face against the drone.

“I know. Truthfully, I couldn’t do it alone the first time around. I was lucky Perceptor wanted to help...”  
“How did he take the termination of the first one?” inquired Jazz with interest.

Perceptor hadn’t complained so far. But the red scientist rarely complained about anything anyway. Wheeljack shrugged.

“Not too badly; we were expecting problems sooner or later. The Dinobots play rough, everybody knows that. Still, no matter how many times I tell them the kitty drones aren't strong enough to survive their games, they don't listen. Either that or they keep forgetting.”  
"Well, they are beginning to grasp the concept,” pointed out the saboteur. “This one has lasted for almost three days straight, without needing repairs. Or at least, not serious ones…"

Wheeljack nodded as he watched the Dinobots playing with the latest drone he had created for them, something which looked vaguely like a tiger. He almost pitied the poor thing.

“You could have constructed a kitty for each of them,” he heard Jazz say.  
“I thought about that, but Red Alert said ‘no’. He doesn’t want ‘more security hazards running free around the Ark’. And besides, if I did, Ratchet would have four more drones to repair every day.”

And that was very accurate.

Even though the giant mechs were trying to be gentle – not their speciality, unfortunately – they weren’t exactly careful enough.

In less than two weeks, almost twenty ‘pets’ had been scrapped. But to be fair, in the last week, only six had departed for a better world. There was progress, but it came far too slowly for his comfort.

Still, the Dinobots learned from their mistakes. Now, they knew trying to throw the pets at each other was a bad idea. And Swoop had learned not to fly with them in his grasp because if he accidentaly dropped them, they wouldn’t survive the encounter with the ground.

"Hopefully, they will keep it that way; Ratchet was ready to put an end to the pets' miseries himself,” said the engineer. “Of course, I can understand why; I mean, if they barged into my lab every two or three cycles because their 'kitty' didn't want to move anymore and they wanted him repaired, I would try to get rid of the problem altogether too,” he added.

Jazz nodded.

“How did you manage to soothe him anyway?”

Everybody had noticed a dinstinct improvement in the medic's mood these last few days, and a bet was running on exactly what Wheeljack had done to achieve it.

Wheeljack’s optics brightened.

“That, my dear friend, is a private matter, and I doubt you want to know.”  
“Ah, come on Wheeljack...” started Jazz.  
“Do I ask you details about you and Prowl’s relationship?” asked sternly the engineer.

Jazz froze. Were Ratchet and Wheeljack a...? Had they...? Perhaps he didn't want to know so badly after all...

“...Ok, I will not ask again.”  
“Good.”

There was silence for a few minutes, until Jazz began speaking again.

"You could always 'borrow' Steeljaw or Ramhorn…Granted, they wouldn't be happy, but they would survive much longer than your drones…"  
"I thought about that, but Blaster would probably kill me if I dared," answered Wheeljack with all the seriousness he could muster. 

It was really hard for him to not laught as he imagined Ramhorn or Steeljaw trying to escape the Dinobots’ attention.

“And anyway, they don’t even want to leave Blaster’s side since Grimlock glanced at them the other day when he first said he wanted a pet.”  
“Man, that’s hard.”  
“I know. I think Blaster wants them to see Smokescreen for therapy.”  
"Well, if they don’t want to, you could alway give them one of Soundwave's pests next time we capture one of them. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a bird for a pet," jocked Jazz.

Wheeljack shook his head, amused.

"That would be too cruel."  
"For the Dinobots or for the Cassettes?" added Jazz playfully.

The engineer watched the Dinobots play around. Or rather, he watched as the Dinobots stopped playing to gather around the now still drone. Grimlock poked him softly. No reaction.

“Him kitty doesn’t move anymore!”  
“Him hurt again?”  
“Wheeljack! Him kitty doesn’t work anymore!”

Wheeljack sighed as he started to approach the giant mechs to take a closer look at the drone.

“Truthfully? I wonder...”


	9. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumble and Frenzy are curious; why would Soundwave want to see them alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adopted from the tf_bunny_farm and written in 2008; I sadly didn't keep a link to the original prompt.  
> Anyway, enjoy. :)
> 
> **Bunny: Soundwave decides it’s time his Cassettes had The Talk.**

Today had started like any other day for the Decepticon. Everything was normal and boring, as they weren’t going to fight the Autobots today.

Or at least, it had been boring until two mechs received a summons from someone they wouldn’t dare disobey.

“So… any idea why Soundwave wants to see us in private?”

Rumble stopped walking to turn toward his twin.

“No idea. Did we do something bad?” asked the Cassette.  
“More than usual? I don’t think so.”  
“How about the potatoes we put in Motormaster’s exhault pipes?”

Frenzy thought about that for a minute before shaking his head.

“No proof it was us; from what I gathered, Skywarp is still the prime suspect.”  
“Better him than us but be careful; you never know when they’re going to grow a CPU and begin to suspect us.”  
“True enough. Anything else we could have done to anger Soundwave?”  
“Perhaps it’s about that last paint bomb we dropped on Starscream?” pondered Rumble.  
“No, can’t be,” answered Frenzy. “He thought it was funny, he wouldn’t punish us fot that.”

Rumble tilted his head.

“Who said he was going to punish us?”  
“Come on Rumble, he never wants to see us alone if it’s not for punishment.”  
“Still, he didn’t seem to be angry at us last time I saw him...”  
“When was that?”  
“Just before he talked to... Thundercracker?”

Suddenly, both of them understood exactly what it was about.

“How much do you bet one of them saw us?”  
“Sorry, I don’t take sucker bets,” said Frenzy, shaking his head.  
“Yeah, right and I’m an Autoscum.”  
“Sorry, red is not your color,” jocked his brother. “So, Thundercracker ratted on us. Big deal; we gather information. They were doing something suspicious in that room and we had to know what.  
“What was he doing with Skywarp and Starscream anyway? They were moaning and their vents were loud...”  
“Don’t know; but if they were in pain, why did they said ‘harder’ and ‘more’?”  
“Perhaps they are masochists?”  
“They support Starscream; I think that was already obvious,” answered the red Cassette. “Come on, he doesn’t like waiting,” he added as he started to walk again.

0101010101010101

“Boss mech? You wanted to see us?”

Soundwave looked up from the datapad he was reading upon their arrival. Ravage was lying at his feet and the Twins could see his tail moving right and left. So, they weren't alone. Perhaps it wasn't as important as they first thought...

Then Soundwave began to speak.

“Rumble, Frenzy: present in Seekers’ quarters last orns.”

Both Cassettes nodded.

“What you saw: understood?”

Rumble looked at his brother before starting to talk.

“Well, they were making a lot of weird noises...”  
“Yeah, and they put their hands in weird place. I mean, who would want to grab Starscream’s aft? Or touch Skywarp between the legs?” added Frenzy with a wince. “I don’t know why they were doing that, but it was gross!”  
“And they were making even more weird noises when they stroked each other's wings...”

As he and Soundwave listened to their 'report', Ravage tried very hard not to laugh out loud; there was no point in revealing what he knew. As for Soundwave, he was repressing a sigh. So, he had to go through this once again...

Thankfully, once he was done, he wouldn't have to do this ever again…Unless Ratbat began to ask questions, but he was still a bit young for it and would hopefully remain blissfully ignorant of the 'facts of life' for a few more millions vorns.

Rumble and Frenzy stopped talking when they finally finished describing exactly what they had seen. Soundwave had to admit it could have been worse; the Seekers had been pretty mild in their ‘love making’ session.

Still, he had to explain to them exactly what they had seen; it wouldn't be good if they broadcasted the Air Commander's 'exploits' with his wing mates to everyone just because they didn't know better.

Starscream wasn't too bad with a gun when he really wanted to kill someone...

And he didn’t want to lose Rumble and Frenzy. Even though they were annoying Pit-spawned glitches when they wanted to be, they were his annoying Pit-spawned glitches.

If someone had to deactivate them for good one day, it would probably be him.

For their part, the Twins' embarrassment was still growing, as well as Ravage’s delight.

The Communication Officer looked at his youngest creations with an undefinable expression. Of course, since he was wearing a mask, nobody could say what his face reflected; but usually, his Cassettes knew him well enough to decipher Soundwave's body language and moods rather easily.

This time, they couldn’t read anything. That wasn’t good... And the fact Ravage was looking positively delighted wasn’t doing anything to ease their worries.

Soundwave finally spoke.

“Rumble, Frenzy: old enough to have the Talk.”

The two Cassettes looked at each other. Ravage snorted. Oh, this was going to be good...

“The Talk?” said stupidely Frenzy.  
“What’s the Talk?” asked Rumble to their creator, his voice full of wonder.

Soundwave stayed silent.

“Ey, I think I remember something about that; wasn’t Ravage sent to the Medbay once because Soundwave had the Talk with him?” said suddenly Frenzy.

Rumble looked at his brother in wonder. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered something like that… 

“Where did you learn that?”  
“By listening to Hook’s rambling. That mech sure can talk when he's working on something alone and is unahappy about it...”  
“Yeah, now I remember. Wasn’t that just after he met this pretty kitty-femme at the start of the war?”

Frenzy nodded. They hadn’t been very happy to see their brother leaving them alone to follow a femme wherever she was going. They would never tell anyone they had been jealous, because they hadn’t been.

But Ravage was _their_ brother, he belonged to _them_... And eventually to Soundwave, but that wasn’t the point.

“Why did he think she was so special anyway?” grumbled Frenzy.  
“Don’t know, don’t care. But why did he need to be sent to...”

**Click.**

Both twins looked up at the noise. Had Soundwave... locked the door? They shared a look. Ok; now was a good time to start to panic.

“Euh...why did you...?” asked fearfully Frenzy.  
“Ravage, Laserbeack, Buzzsaw: already received Talk. Reactions: not appreciated. Repeat of the experience: not wanted.”  
“But...” started Rumble.  
“Silence. Sit down. Listen carefully.”

Ravage grinned. The Twins gulped.

And so Soundwave began to tell the tale that usually began with _'When a mech and a femme or two mechs or two femmes or even more - like three or four of them - love each other, they...’_

To say the Twins were horrified was the understatement of the millennium.

To say they weren't sent to the Medbay for sedatives and a long chat about keeping their firewalls and anti-viruses updated, with Ravage roaring in laughter as he watched and recorded everything, would be a lie.

To say that, once they got over the shock and the 'Erk! I will never do something so disgusting! Ever!' phase, they started to flirt with just about every good looking mech and femme on sight would be very accurate.

Too bad for them Starscream didn’t take well the fact they grabbed his aft and that his aim could be scarily accurate when he truly wanted it to be...


	10. Photo Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captive Autobots + Bored Decepticons + Reflector + Swindle = a very humiliating situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by bunny #49 on this list: http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/71311.html#cutid1
> 
> 49\. Perceptor and another Autobot are captured by Decepticons. Bored, the Decepticon force them to pose for erotic photos.
> 
> I think I had chosen Blaster because he was a friend's favorite character. Old fic that was until now posted over my LJ and the mecha_erotica community.

Click. Click. Click. Flash. Click. Click.

The room was almost silent, if not for the soft chatter of a couple of Decepticons, and the ‘clicks’ emitted by a camera, or rather a mech who transformed into a camera. Reflector was proud of himself as he finished taking a last picture.

Quickly, he transformed. “Ok, I think we may make them try another position now,” he said, looking at his fellow Decepticons. Most of them were still staring and grinning at their ‘guests’ and barely paid attention to the three mechs.

Swindle, however, was very interested. “What do you have in mind?” he asked. The others reluctantly left their contemplation to make a circle around them.

Reflector smiled. “Well, you see...” he started.

Soon, everyone was speaking and nobody paid any attention to the two subjects of the photos, two mechs they had captured a while before and who were presently helping them to be less bored.

They were Autobots, and they were very relieved that they could finally speak to each other, if not privately, then at least quietly and without being forced to do more degrading things. They weren’t bound for now, but they knew better than to try to make a break for it, especially when they knew there were armed guards on the other side of the door.

“It’s humiliating,” one of the two Autobots said. He was painted mainly in red and blue, and a lens-barrel adorned one of his shoulders.

“Tell me about it,” grunted his fellow captive, lying next to him on the mattress. Yes, a true mattress.

It was an oversized thing, white and shaped like a giant heart, although Perceptor couldn’t understand why they thought it was a heart. Real human hearts didn’t look like that from what he had learned. Had the circumstances been different, he would have certainly spoke up about it. But for now, he was just content to lie still, his optics gazing at his comrade, Blaster, without really seeing him.

The other Autobot looked at him with a small smile. “You know, you kiss very well. I wouldn’t mind doing that again, if you’re willing,” he said, trying to cheer up the other Autobot.

He was being sincere; Perceptor kissed very well even if he had been close to tear at some point. Of course, having a ‘Con lying behind him and trying to insert a finger into his interface port was certainly upsetting for the scientist. Blaster himself had almost broke down when he had had the same thing done to him at the same time.

Thankfully, Soundwave had made them back off when he had seen how upset the two Autobots were. The telepath wouldn’t help them escape, but he would see that no permanent harm was made to them. It was his way to thank them for saving one his Cassettes from offlining for good.

Sometimes, Blaster mused, their luck manifested in strange ways. He wondered what would have happened to them had he not came across the badly damaged Ravage after the last battle and kept him alive long enough to have Perceptor do emergency repairs with a care he had rarely seen in the scientist.

Of course, it was mainly because the microscope had never worked on a Cassette before, and found their mechanisms and the way they coped with their small size ‘fascinating’.

He supposed both of them would probably have been deactivated, or worse, if not for a grudging Cassette who wanted to pay his debts or the compliance of his master.

Still... Blasted Decepticons and their weird ideas!

The microscope curled a little upon himself. “Blaster, I hope you do realize we are currently held hostage by a bunch of psychotic mechs. _Bored_ psychotic mechs who decided we would look great as porn star and are currently holding us down or pointing their weapons at us to make us go along with their demands,” said Perceptor crossly. “I would be happy if I never heard the words ‘kiss’, ‘interface’, ‘eroticism’ or ‘kinky’ ever again.”

He wasn’t panicking. He had done that already the first time the Decepticons had looked at them with that strange glint in their optics. Still, he wasn’t happy.

Blaster grimaced. Ok, perhaps Perceptor was more upset than he had first thought. He had to try again. “See the bright side of the situation; at least, they just want erotic photos. They aren’t asking us to interface with them,” he said softly, one of his hand placed on the microscope’s shoulder.

“For now,” grumbled Perceptor. Blaster winced, realizing the scientist was probably right. He glanced nervously at the bunch of Decepticons who were arguing about what they would do with them now.

Rising his head, Blaster scanned the room. The dozen Decepticons still present were speaking vividly, each one having a different idea of what position their two captives would be the best in. His optics crossed the ones of Soundwave and he turned his head away angrily. In the back of his CPU, he could hear the Decepticon’s officer chuckling as well as feel a wave or reassurance. Since the ‘Cons had started to ‘play’, the telepath hadn’t stopped doing that.

“You know, it’s not so bad,” he tried again. He shuddered when Perceptor glared at him.

“Not so bad? I hope you are kidding,” said the microscope frostily.

Blaster fidgeted. “Well, it could still be worse. I mean, they didn’t make us use toys on ourselves...” he trailed off and cringed. Oh, he so hoped nobody had heard that. A quick glance around let him know that everybody was still arguing. Thank Primus for small favors.

Perceptor had stopped glaring, but his face was grim. “You can talk; you’re not the one who had his lower panel removed to expose his interface ports, which are thankfully hidden by a bow for now. Although by the way they keep looking at me, I’m not sure I will keep the bow for long,” he said flatly, putting his hands in front of his groin area to prevent anyone to peeping at him, trying to ignore the whistles and catcalls he received when some of the ‘Cons noticed his movements.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard the usual ‘click’ associated with Reflector taking a photo. Thank Primus, those deviants hadn’t wanted to use chains for this particular picture.

Blaster shook his head, half amused and half distraught by the situation. “No, but I’m the one who had to touch himself in front of the objective and who had his aft fondled by more than half of the people in the room, just because they could! And my interface ports are still bare and I didn’t have the option to hide them like yours on that fragging photo, you know,” he said, pressing the heart-shaped cushion he was using to cover himself closer to his groin area.

Perceptor glanced at the display and turned his optics away. Yes, he had to admit he was slightly more lucky in this aspect.

Blaster hadn’t finished rant. “And then they painted exactly what type of services they would like me to do for them in Cybertronian on my legs, thighs, chest plates and aft. Oh, and I had to be caught on tape with manacles and a dog collar and a leash and a rune indicating I was a pet painted on my lower panel. And _Soundwave_ was the one holding the leash! Oh, I’m so going to kill him for that...” he said, his vents working hard.

If they had been alone or if the photos were being kept by the telepath alone, perhaps Blaster wouldn’t have minded so much. Unfortunately, Swindle had seld one to ten copies of the same photo to almost everydoby on the base. He just prayed now that no Autobot would ever find out, though that was doubtful.

Perceptor stared at him. “You think that was bad? I had to sit on Starscream’s laps while facing Reflector, and that damn Seeker kept putting his hand between my thighs and kiss me in the neck! Then they took shots of me on my hands and knees with the Constructicons right behind me, grabbing me at places I will not mention!” he said, on the verge of hysteria. He really hadn’t like the way the Contructicons had fondled his aft, nor had he liked the things Starscream had whispered in his audio.

Primus, the Air Commander was a sick mech!

Hmm, though some of his ideas had been tempting, the scientist had to admit. Tempting with any mech other than Starscream, that is.

Blaster shrugged. “And what about the time they had me chained spread eagle on the mattress, with the bunch of roses barely hiding out my open codpiece? Or when they painted the words ‘Insert Here’ on our stomach plates with arrows pointing at our groins?”

Perceptor shuddered as he thought about that one. He hadn’t been certain he would be able to escape with his virtue intact. “I must admit it was incredibly tasteless, but we couldn’t protest, could we?”

Blaster started to answer, but stopped speaking after he saw they were being observed once again. Grumbling, he stayed still and silent, imitated by Perceptor, as some mechs were chuckling at seeing them cuddling against each other.

Meanwhile, the Decepticons were more or less agreeing on something. “What about an erotic calendar? I heard humans were doing that...” suggested Rumble, perched on Soundwave’s shoulder.

Everyone stopped speaking to ponder on the idea. “Sound like humans aren’t totally worthless, after all,” mused Reflector. “I could certainly do that.”

“But what kind of calendar? One for the human’s year, or one for Cybertron’s cycle?” asked Skywarp.

More speaking ensued, until a blue Seeker cut everyone off. “Why not both? It could be fun...” suggested Thundercracker.

“If we do, are we using a single theme or are we doing different models? Because I thought we could do something with a Doc and a nurse playing dirty, but a couple of photos in the washracks could be fun too. Or random shots,” suggested Hook, looking at the two Autobots with a smirk. Oh, he wouldn’t mind playing ‘doctor’ with them...

“Gentlemechs, we will be doing the three or more if anyone have any new ideas, and I hereby announce I’m already taking down orders,” grinned Swindle. Oh, he just knew he could make a good profit with this. Especially if he sold some calendars to the Autobots... 

Every optics in the room turned toward the ‘stars’ of the future calendars.

The two Autobots looked at each other and sighed. The ‘Cons wouldn’t hurt them, they knew that deep down -– because they would have already shoot them if they had intended to, and Soundwave had sort-of confirmed to them by telepathy that they wouldn’t been harmed if they stayed quiet and obedient. Not that they truly believed him, but they had no choices anyway.

Still, they hoped the rescue party would be here soon.

Being porn stars wasn’t the job of their dreams, after all.


End file.
